Making a choice out of necessity, part four

Her sisters supported the marriage. That made sense. They always considered her late husband Al a degenerate, and at one time she overheard Louise say he was a “gangster.”  Both were content in their marriages and wanted the same for their younger sister. They also wanted to be sure that Leta and her children had a good provider in their lives.

Still, Leta knew she didn’t love Ora. Her heart, even her soul if she could make such a claim, belonged to Al. Anger rose in her every time one of them even hinted that Al was not a good provider or devoted to her, Vivian and Dale. Yet Al was gone now, and she had to make a decision about whether or not to marry Ora.

Ora had been so kind to her and the children over the recent months that she wondered if love was all that important, and, after Al, could she even love anyone else?

Three months had passed since Al was killed. The shock had dissipated, but the grief continued. At the same time, she and her children had needs. She was their mother; she must do what she must to provide for her children. She had been sitting at the kitchen table for well over an hour and needed to begin her day.

Ora was coming for supper, and she would give him her decision then. While he had given her time to respond to his offer, recognizing that this would be difficult and his proposal had taken her by surprise, he deserved an answer, even though she still didn’t know what that answer would be.

Then she heard the chirping. A dozen or so finches were sitting in the trees in the back, resting and fueling for their migration south for the winter. Although it was only September, winter was coming soon. The Farmer’s Almanac on the coffee table indicated that this was to be a hard one. The money was nearly gone, and she needed to take care of her children. With a great sigh, she stood and carried her coffee cup and uneaten toast to the sink.

Some decisions, she realized then, make themselves.

That evening when Ora arrived, she could tell he was anxious. She had waited one day too long to respond, and his feelings were altering. Even so, he had taken the time to bathe and refresh himself after work. He wore a clean shirt and slicked down his thinning hair. While he had cleaned his teeth, she could smell the remnants of gin on his breath.

She, too, had dressed for the evening, styled her hair and applied a little perfume. They were like young people at a first meeting—eager, insecure and anxious.

Leta brought them both a small glass of brick wine that had just fermented. While not her favorite, it was less expensive than other illegal beverages. The children were in their rooms. The meal was nearly ready. The setting sun had just dropped behind a bank of heavy clouds rolling in. Leta closed the living room window, through which a gust of wind had just ruffled papers.

“Rain is coming,” Ora said, breaking the silence. “It’s gonna be a big storm, I think.”

Leta sat down beside him on the sofa. He looked right at her. She looked right back and after a moment, spoke:

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other evening. I confess that I was surprised. It’s been very … overwhelming … since Al died. As you know, I’ve been at a loss without him. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me and the children….”

Ora’s countenance started falling. She was taking too long. Her stammering was sending the wrong signal.

“Yes, let’s get married,” she blurted out.

They were married three months later, right after Christmas.

Making a choice out of necessity, part three

Leta had been a widow for three months. In addition to the great swells of loneliness that raged inside of her, she was also trapped by an increasing anxiety about her financial future. The money she and her late husband Al had set aside went quickly after his death, and as a homemaker, she had almost no opportunity to earn an income on her own. In addition, she had two other mouths to feed, bodies to clothe and take care of. She sold her husband’s automobile, which proved to be only a temporary respite. The neighbors, her church friends and family were supportive, but at some point, she knew, something had to change.

One of her neighbors, Mr. Ora Freeman became a particular help to her.  One afternoon, he was passing by and saw her attempting to cut the small patch of grass that comprised her front yard and insisted that she allow him to finish, as well as cut the grass in the back. He did not like, he noted, to see a woman doing man’s work.

After that initial offer of service, he stopped by more regularly, every couple of days, just to make sure everything was fine. Leta learned very quickly that he was handy around the house. He fixed a drip in the kitchen sink, removed an unruly bush, repaired the leg of an end table and even painted the closet in her daughter Vivian’s bedroom. While he didn’t bring chocolates for Vivian and her younger son Dale every time he stopped by, he brought them enough that they began to refer to him as “the candy man.”

He was also good company for Leta, whose ache frequently seemed so overwhelming that she dare not breathe. He spoke respectfully of her late husband, made sure that she had an outlet for her own grief and paid several compliments. He seemed to notice everything. Consequently, she began to style her hair and dress better for his visits.

One late afternoon in mid-October, after he had raked the leaves on the front lawn and they were enjoying a fresh cup of coffee and Leta’s special raisin-filled sugar cookies, their usual conversation took a turn. His breathing became deeper and heavier, and he raised himself to his full height, even sitting in the kitchen chair.

“Now, Leta,” he began with an certainty she had not heard him express previously, “we’ve known each other for a couple of years now, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” she answered, suppressing the desire to ask why the conversation seemed to be taking a different turn.

“And we enjoy spending time with one another, don’t we?”

“Yes, you’re very good company. You’re a good man, Ora.”

“Well, I’ve been thinkin’. You and me—we seem to get along well enough. You’re a woman. I’m a man. Me and your children get along. I like them pretty well. We’re both of a certain age, and it seems to me like a good idea that we get married and set up a house together.”

Leta nearly gasped in surprise, but repressed it with a little grunt. Ora continued:

“Now, I know that you and Al was really close, and I know this is sudden and unexpected. But let’s face it, women and men are meant to be together. And I think it would be an honor if you were to become my wife. I promise you I will take care of you and Vivian and Dale. I really like your kids. And gosh darnit, I have feelings for you!”

Leta still hadn’t spoken, but even as the surprise roared inside her head, she could still hear him.

“There I’ve said my piece, and I’m gonna give you some time to think it over. It’s a big change for you, I know. But I hope you’ll say yes.”

With his final “yes,” he gently laid his large hand over hers. A warmth she had not felt in months rode from the veins in that hand throughout her entire body. She looked him right in the eye and said, “All right, I’ll do that.”

To be continued.

Making a choice out of necessity, part two

Leta had a decision to make. She had to think about her children and their needs. She had to think of how a recently widowed woman with no source of income and two other mouths to feed, clothe and protect could survive. Time and money were running out.

Her brother Aaron was arriving to take the automobile that afternoon. The vehicle belonged to her late husband, and she had no use for it. Aaron believed he could sell it. The income would tide her and the children over for a few more months.

But when it turned cold—and it would—the heating bills would rise. Both children needed winter coats. And still she had no source of income.

When she was married to Ralph, her children’s father, she had taken in borders for income. This was her personal income—for her and the children. Ralph didn’t want her to know anything about their family finances, giving her only a small allowance to pay for the children’s, hers and household needs. It was barely sufficient, and she hated being kept in the dark, having managed her own income for several years before they married. Taking in borders was her response, and Ralph hated it. He reasoned that this made him less of a man, that he couldn’t support his own family or her lavish lifestyle. He used both arguments, focusing on whichever one had the greater impact when they argued.

She kept the money she made from the borders in a secret place, and then used it to cover the costs of their divorce.

Taking in borders was not an option now. Her house was too small. She also had no interest in continuing the underground alcohol business she and Al co-managed during Prohibition. Even the sight of the still in the basement ravaged her heart like a vicious wild boar. Most of the time she simply ached.

Since her husband Al’s death in June, people had been so kind. Their condolences included food, driving her wherever she needed to go, helping her with household chores and repairs, and surprise gifts like a pair of much-needed shoes for her son Dale. They were too small, but still the sentiment moved her.

One of her neighbors had been especially kind. He lived a couple of blocks from them and had been a regular customer of the illegal alcohol business. Although she knew him, she had not thought much of him initially. He brought food right after Al’s death and dropped off chocolates for the children. He even mowed her small patch of lawn for her, rotating the responsibility with several other neighbors. Once he was driving by on a day when Leta was mowing herself, stopped his car and immediately took over.

“A woman as fine as you, Leta…May I call you ‘Leta?’” he asked.

“Yes, please do,” she answered.

He smiled.

“As I was sayin’, a woman as fine as you ought not to be doing this kind of rough work. Those pretty hands of your’n are better suited for sewing, I expect.”

Leta was astonished. “Yes,” she stammered, “I do sew.”

“And I bet you know how to make a man a nice cool drink, too,” he added, “for him to have after he cuts the grass.”

Leta smiled and nodded before slipping into the house and leaving him with the lawn mower.

To be continued.

Making a choice out of necessity

Leta was sitting at the kitchen table, reviewing her situation. It was a cloudy September morning, and a chill dampness choked the air. The children were off to school, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She had been sipping coffee, but the remains of her entire supply now sat stagnant in the cup, the cream separating and congealing. Today was her grocery day, but she had just given her daughter Vivian the last half dollar from her pocketbook for school supplies. While she hadn’t been surprised that the children’s needs emptied her purse, its emptiness created a dilemma.

Both children needed new clothes and shoes, having outgrown nearly everything they had been wearing. The rent was due. She owed the grocer and the milk deliveryman. Soon other bills would come due – electricity and telephone. While she had learned when living with her first husband that there would always be bills, what most defined of her current situation was that she had no source of income.

The moonshine still sat dormant and rusting in the basement. She had already sold or given away all of the alcohol they had made during happier days. While she could continue to make and sell the illegal liquor, she simply could not bear it. Even going into the basement caused a panic attack that sent her either crying into her bedroom or made her irritable for hours. Although her children knew her moods, they were also hurting. The loss was also theirs, and it was inappropriate for her to burden them more with her own angry grief. As a child, she often had to avoid her father’s raging moods, a habit she continued with her first husband. The children lived through their own father’s tantrums, and for all she knew, still had to when they visited him. They did not deserve hers right now, even as her heart moved from a painful ache to a hollow cavern of emptiness.  

Al had died less than three months earlier. How had the money gone so quickly? They never considered themselves spendthrifts or materialistic. He had a reasonable salary. They had a savings and war bonds.

But the funeral was expensive, and without her husband Leta had no income of her own. Fleetingly, she thought about asking her children’s father to provide some financial support, but she feared this would lead to him suing for custody. While she and the judge convinced him to drop his prior suit, she believed that this time he would win, and she couldn’t part with her daughter and son at this time. Taking care of them was the only stability in her suddenly tumultuous and uncertain life.

Selling the automobile would bring in some immediate cash. She didn’t drive; she didn’t need it. Besides, it belonged to her husband, and every time she saw it parked in front of the house, her heart started to ache all over again.

Still, she needed income, and she needed to find a way to take care of her children and herself.

To be continued.

Vagabond son

They sat together holding hands, which was uncommon for them. Physical affection had never been part of their mother-daughter bond. On this particular afternoon, however, they connected in a single anxiety.

Vivian, the daughter, was planning to marry. The wedding would be a simple affair. After all, this was the Depression. While there was income, there wasn’t much of it. Besides, a simple wedding was more in line with Vivian’s and her fiancé Ed’s personalities. Still, she wanted her only brother present, but Dale had become difficult to track.

For two years, he had been “riding the rails,” as folks said, living a vagabond life. While both women worried about him and his safety, up until now they were rarely terrified.

Yet, they had not heard from him in just over two months after hearing consistently once per month. His letters were simple, but clear. He was in good health. He had occasional work that kept him from going hungry. He had made several friends, and they all looked out for one another. He was headed to a different place and would report in again.

Although simple, these letters pacified them. As both his mother and sister were also living somewhat unsettled lives, he sent them to Vivian via their father’s address. During this period, Leta had moved twice, and Vivian was working as a housekeeper for a wealthy family that altered between two different locations.

Their apprehension was initiated by a serious train accident that occurred in Nebraska. According to Dale’s most recent letter from Iowa, Nebraska was his next destination. The news report stated that a large freight train with several boxcars of illegal riders had struck a truck carrying oil, resulting in a large explosion and fire. Nearly three dozen riders had been killed or injured. Having not heard from Dale for such a long time led them to consider that he may have been one of those injured or worse.

After they learned of the accident, Vivian wrote to the authorities and sent a photograph of her brother for identification. This initiated a two-week period of uncertainty that rose to anxiety when they were informed a telegram had arrived. While the women waited, Vivian’s fiancé had gone to Western Union to retrieve it.

The worry was weighing heavily on Leta. While Vivian could not be sure, it appeared as though her mother’s hair was becoming grayer as the minutes passed. She had not slept much for a few days, and the skin below her eyes began to darken and sag. Even the bright blue of her irises seemed to darken. The mother was becoming desperate for news.

Just then they heard the door open. Leta gripped Vivian’s hand tightly, and they both stiffened. They heard heavy footsteps on the wooden floor and leaned toward the short hallway. The light behind the male figure obscured him. He was smaller in stature than Ed, which confused them. He turned slightly out of the sun, and said in his flat nasal voice, “Mom.”